


work me (like my back ain't got no bone)

by ZoeBug



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Cock Rings, Consensual Slurs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Gloves, Impact Play, Leather, Marking, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Titles, Wet & Messy, dom!marco, gagging, sub!Jean, sub-space, this tag list is gonna get so long RIP me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/pseuds/ZoeBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Super self-indulgent modern BDSM AU!</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t ever have to feel ashamed of what you want, darling," Marco assures. "Not with me. I want to give it to you and so much more.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	work me (like my back ain't got no bone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blushyfaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushyfaces/gifts).



> I promised the peeps on twitter this AU like _forever_ ago. Sorry about the wait guys but it's finally here!
> 
>  
> 
> But without further ado, communicate your kinks, remember your safewords, and grab your lube because its time for some kink-tastic smut!
> 
> (Title from ["Gimme" by She Keeps Bees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2hkys_dOCI))

Jean’s eyelids flutter and Marco doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight than this.

Kneeling at his feet, naked and flushed from exertion and the strikes of his hand, Jean is moaning around Marco's gloved fingers as he thrusts them in and out of Jean's mouth slowly. He ignores the insistent press of his cock for the moment, rigid against inside of his slacks. Instead, he simply watches the movement of Jean’s mouth on his fingers, the arch of his back, the beautiful blush on his pale skin that reaches almost down to his sternum. And his hard cock where it’s flushed a dark pink and dripping precome between his spread legs.

He can feel the heat of Jean’s mouth through the leather of his gloves. Spit is shining on Jean’s chin and lips where he’s been so, _so_ good for Marco, letting it drip from his mouth like he was told.

Because the only thing Marco loves more than making Jean a mess is getting Jean to make _himself_ a mess.

“Good boy,” Marco murmurs. His other hand comes to gently caress the back of Jean’s upturned head. Jean _moans_ around his fingers at the touch, the gentle pressure, sucking lightly and bobbing his head to take more into his mouth. His hands are clenched on his thighs, trying - Marco assumes - to resist touching himself without permission. Not that it would do him much good anyway. Not with the cock ring he’s got on him.

Marco finally lets out a heated sigh and draws his hand back from Jean’s mouth, strings of saliva stretching and breaking between them. Jean swallows thickly, panting before gazing up at him with hazy eyes.

“Sir-” he pants.

“Shh, I know, baby,” Marco murmurs. “You want something back in that greedy little mouth of yours.” Marco smirks as Jean’s cock twitches between his legs at the words but he looks away.

“Please.”

Marco doesn’t reply to Jean’s words, only lifts one foot and presses it to Jean’s chest, urging him backwards. Jean leans, following the press of Marco’s oxford, groaning softly as the movement jostles the plug inside of him. He rearranges his legs until his back is against the bedroom floor. Marco’s right foot is set squarely on his chest between two flushed patches on his pectorals where Marco had smacked him bright red earlier with a crop.

“Hands above your head,” Marco murmurs and Jean wordlessly obeys, his left hand clasping his right wrist over his head.

He can feel the rise and fall of Jean’s chest beneath his shoe as he pants and suppresses a dark grin at the feeling. He picks up his foot only to slide it down Jean’s body to press lightly against Jean’s rigid cock. Jean hisses in pleasure, hips fighting not to buck up into the pressure.

“You like my nice clothes, don’t you?” Marco muses, rubbing the sole of his shoe ever-so-lightly over Jean’s darkly flushed cock. Jean moans quietly, eyes shut, teeth clenched. “My gloves and my ties and my shoes. Hmm? Like when I use them to tie you up. Like when I make you lick them?”

“Y-yeah-” Jean hisses as Marco toes at his balls before dragging once more across the length of his cock.

“If I told you to clean my shoes with your tongue, would you like it?” Marco has one hand in the pocket of his slacks, foot resting without pressure beside Jean’s cock in the V of his hips. This position with Jean under him like this, the easy power of it, sends tingling shocks of heat shooting low in his gut. “Would you moan against them like a good little boy?”

Jean’s head rolls back as he sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth digging into his lip. Marco feels him quivering beneath his sole, notes the way his knuckles are white where they grip above his head, watches his cock twitch and let loose a bead of precome.

But then Marco pauses. Because there is something not quite right about the tension in Jean’s brow. Even through the blur and heat of lust, Marco can see the color rising to Jean’s cheeks that’s not entirely arousal. He frowns.

“Jean, open your eyes,” he says softly as he removes his foot and steps back. Jean does so immediately. “Sit up. But slowly, please. Be careful of your plug.” He crouches, holding out a hand and Jean reaches for it. Slowly, Marco helps him back up to a kneeling position that’s the most comfortable with his plug and cock ring.

“Tell me our safewords,” Marco says softly as he slips off the spit-slicked glove on his right hand.

“Red and yellow. Like always.” Jean’s brow furrows as he swallows. His chest is still rising and falling rapidly, cock still hard between his legs.

“Good. Eyes on me, Jean. And you will use them if you want to stop or slow down. For whatever reason.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Marco still isn’t satisfied, seeing no change in Jean’s slightly curved-in demeanor as he flicks his eyes back and forth between Jean’s own, studying him. He lets out a long breath and loosens the tie around his neck. Jean’s eyes track the motion.

“Are you still feeling badly about liking this, Jean?” he asks softly, dropping nearly all of the commanding air he adopts during scenes. The fingers of his now bare hand reach out to slide through Jean’s hair. Jean’s eyes widen and then flick away.

Even after months of scenes together, Marco still sees it in Jean: that small thing that gnaws at him, tells him this kind of thing is wrong, that it isn’t something he should _want_.

Marco wonders what cruel words or ignorant judgments or misinformed stereotypes caused him to feel this way. Thinking about it sometimes drives Marco nearly to anger. Because there is nothing shameful about Jean in these moments.

Marco has admired, caressed, run his tongue along nearly every inch of him and found it beautiful. He’s seen Jean cry and scream with overwhelming sensations of pain and pleasure and found it beautiful. He’s heard Jean admit in hushed tones what acts and ideas burn him up inside with lust, heard him beg for pleasure and relief and found it beautiful.

He’s seen Jean brainless with pleasure and broken with pain and found it beautiful because Jean _wanted it_.

Jean wants. He wants Marco and _with_ Marco. He wants only with communication and trust. And Marco knows with every fiber of his being that there is nothing shameful about that.

“Do you want to stop?” Marco asks, slowly and clearly, keeping his eyes level with Jean’s.

“N-no,” Jean’s voice is cracked and despite the conversation it makes Marco’s mouth dry at the thought of what he would sound like after what else he has planned for him.

“Jean...” he murmurs, hands on either side of Jean’s face ―one a smooth softness against Jean’s cheek and the other a kiss of body-warmed leather. “Like I’ve said before, your submission is a _gift_. One of the greatest you could ever give me. It’s _brave_. This is your body and your mind and you are trusting _me_ with that. That’s the furthest thing from shameful.”

“Marco...” The name passes Jean’s lips as a desperate exhale.

“You don’t ever have to feel ashamed of what you want, darling,” Marco assures. “Not with me. I want to give it to you and so much more.”

Marco thinks maybe _this_ tops his previous notion of the most beautiful sight he’s ever bared witness to because Jean’s eyebrows are turned up in such a beautiful expression of grateful near-reverence with his eyes closed and lip barely-trembling. The weight of Jean's head leaning into Marco’s palm, the feeling of his neck relaxing and his muscles going slack makes Marco’s heart clench.

It says _I love you._ It says _I trust you_.

It says _You make me feel loved and that means everything_.

As if Marco could do anything but.

“Thank you.” Jean says.

“Anything for you, dearest.” Marco whispers, leaning in to kiss Jean on the forehead. His lips linger against the sweat-soaked bangs for a moment before he pulls back to meet Jean’s eyes once more. “Do you want to keep going?”

Jean nods and lets out a shuddering breath. Marco stands once more, glancing down at the beautiful boy at his feet.

“You’ll use your safewords at the smallest thing you’re not sure of.” Marco’s words gain an edge as the confidence and assertiveness of control settle over him like a comforting weight. “Because this is a two-way street. Doing something you don’t want to because you think I want it won’t impress me. I _never_ want to hurt you unless you ask me to.”

“I promise, Sir.” Jean is gazing up at him with such rapt attention, such adoration and Marco’s eyes soften at the sight.

"Good boy,” he murmurs, hand unable to resist sliding along Jean’s hair and cheekbones once again. “So, so good for me...”

Jean shudders at the words, eyelids fluttering. Marco runs his thumb along the seam of Jean’s parted lips.

“Sir,” Jean whispers against his fingertip. “Can...?”

“Yes?” Marco asks, amused.

“I want to suck your cock. Please.” The way Jean looks up at him on the last word makes Marco twitch in his pants.

“Do you now?” Marco asks with a smirk.

Jean nods eagerly, eyes darting between Marco’s face and the tenting of his pants. Marco slides his hand down beneath Jean’s chin and tilts it upwards, enough that he can watch the bob of Jean’s adam’s apple as he swallows.

“Sir, please let me service you.”

Marco nearly groans at the hazy blur that films over Jean’s eyes, can see him start to drift into that delicious headspace of submission that leaves him boneless and pliant and mewling.

“All right, you needy thing. Since you behaved well enough earlier,” Marco concedes, reaching down to slowly undo his belt. Jean’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Besides. I want to see those pretty pink lips around my cock.”

Marco leaves his undone belt hanging from his belt loops on either side of his fly, undoes the button and pulls the zipper down. He doesn’t bother to take off his pants or even push them too far out of the way. Jean likes this, he knows. _He_ likes it too ―the power imbalance that clothing can present. The way Jean gets only to see and touch what Marco _allows_ him to.

Fingers suddenly firmly gripped in Jean’s hair, Marco yanks his head toward his flushed cock, jutting from his undone pants. Jean gasps.

“If you want it so badly, go ahead," Marco says, the arrogant want in his voice ringing perfectly with the sight of Jean as he leans forward eagerly, breath hot, and runs his tongue up the length of Marco’s cock. Marco can’t help but make a low noise in the back of his throat at the feeling of Jean’s tongue―so hot, so soft, so _wet ―_as it runs back down the side of him. Within a few slides of Jean’s mouth down the sides of his cock, it’s already growing shiny with spit.

“Thought you said you were going _suck_ my cock,” Marco bites out, hand still in Jean’s hair but not gripping or guiding. Yet.

“Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir,” Jean murmurs against the hard length of him and then promptly takes Marco’s head in his mouth and sucks. Marco groans _._ Jean bobs his head, taking more into his mouth with every motion.

“Don’t you dare swallow that spit,” Marco murmurs. “I wanna see it.”

Jean’s eyes lift to meet his as he nods in response and _fuck_ that’s hot. Jean’s mouth around his cock, spit starting drip, eyes wide with the beautiful, unspoken expression of “ _Am I pleasing you, Sir?”_ Marco lets out a heated breath through his nose. Jean is still bobbing on his cock, nothing fancy besides swirling his tongue around Marco’s head―“ _Nnn_ , that’s it, good boy,”―and using just the right suction.

Jean’s hands rise up from their place on his legs, one coming to rest on Marco’s thigh and one to wrap around the base of Marco’s cock and slowly pump. Having drifted shut in the lull of pleasure, Marco’s eyes snap open at the contact. His fingers in Jean’s hair tighten and he yanks Jean’s head back sharply, forcing him to crane his neck.

Jean eyes are wide with shock his hands now hovering, frozen, away from Marco.

“Did I give you permission to touch me, Jean?” Marco’s expression is stony as he stares unrelentingly down at Jean.

“N-no, you didn’t, I’m sorry-” Jean manages.

The smack of Marco’s palm across Jean’s cheek is loud but he barely feels the sting. Jean doesn’t even seem to breathe.

“No, _what_?” Marco growls, hand still tight in Jean’s hair.

“ _No, Sir!_ ” Jean exclaims, a beautiful red flush blooming on his skin. His eyes swim beautifully with submission, with pain and with Marco’s iron control, with the feeling of forcefully put in his place.

Marco’s grip in his hair relaxes and Jean visibly sags.

“That’s better,” Marco murmurs, unfazed, as if Jean’s momentary disobedience was the furthest thing from any threat to his control. He runs his thumb over the redness over Jean’s cheekbone, feeling the flushed heat there. When he retracts his hand, Jean turns his head downwards.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Marco sighs.

“Truthfully, it was probably my fault,” he remarks, almost to himself. “I should have known.”

Jean stays quiet, still. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and something in Marco surges at that.

“You just can’t help yourself. You didn’t want to suck my cock at all, did you, my perfect dirty thing?” Marco’s hand slides over the top of Jean’s head almost tenderly. He grip’s Jean’s hair again― _God,_ he loves yanking Jean around by his hair ―and pulls Jean’s head back to make him look up once more.

“S-Sir, no, I-”

“You wanted me to fuck that little mouth of yours, didn’t you?” The hunger in his voice is heavy but the way it seems to bleed into Jean’s wide eyes, the way his fingers twitch at the words, the way his cock _jerks_ between his legs is exhilarating. “You wanted me to shove my cock down that pretty throat and fuck it. Isn’t that right, Jean?”

“ _God_ , yes _.”_ Jean _moans_ the words and Marco can almost _see_ his eyes blur. “ _Please_ , Sir.”

“My needy little cockslut wants his throat fucked, is that it?” Marco’s lips form the slur like the most desirable endearment he could call someone.

Jean has to swallow forcibly before he replies, panting between words.

“Please, Sir, please, please.”

This is just how he likes Jean. Wanting and desperate for anything Marco suggests.

“You gonna be good and gag for me like I like?” Marco’s grin is positively wicked. Jean shudders.

“Yes- Y-yes-”

“Well then, I suppose it can’t be helped. But since you can’t be trusted to keep your hands to yourself, I’m going to have tie them. Behind your back, Jean. Now.” Jean obeys, lips parted, his breathing still elevated. Marco undoes his tie from around his neck and pulls it off with a high zip of a sound. He checks to make sure the scissors are still on the nearby bedside table in case Jean needs his hands free quickly before crouching behind Jean―so good, kneeling up so straight with his hands behind his back for him―and tying his wrists together. “There.”

Jean lets out a shuddering breath. One of relief. Marco would bet money his eyes are drifting nearly closed with the security of being bound. God, he doubts could ever grow tired of seeing Jean like this.

He stands, undone belt clinking as he walks to the bedside table and pulls open the top drawer. Picking up the hefty TV remote, he returns to Jean still kneeling patiently in the middle of the room, beautiful and bound and waiting.

Crouching behind Jean once more he presses the remote into Jean’s hands. Jean grips the remote and Marco stands back up, taking his place in front of Jean again.

“You can’t tap me if you need a breath or it’s too much with your hands tied,” Marco explains. “Drop that if you need me to stop or slow down, understand? I’ll hear it hit the floor and pull back.”

Jean nods.

“Thank you.”

Marco smiles down at him in a way that would be almost warm if it weren’t for the hunger in his eyes.

“Open,” he says. Jean does, looking up at him from his knees and Marco has to fight back a groan. “Good boy.”

Hand in Jean’s hair, the other around his base, Marco guides his cock to Jean’s open lips and thrusts shallowly into the tight heat. It’s only as deep as Jean was taking him earlier, not anywhere near his throat. But the scales of controls being nudged even this much further one way have Marco _so damn_ hard against Jean’s tongue. Jean moans around Marco’s cock, letting Marco guide his head back and forth along his length, making it once more shiny and spit-slicked.

He pulls back after a minute, Jean’s lips and chin gleaming in the low light with spit when he looks up at him.

“Fuck my throat, Sir,” Jean says and Marco feels a flare of heat in his chest. And then Jean drops his jaw, Marco’s hand still knotted in his hair, and Marco can’t hold back any more.

He slides his cock back into that waiting heat and this time it hits the back of Jean’s mouth. Coughing lightly, Jean swallows, trying to build his way up to it, and takes deep breaths through his nose.

“Relax, baby, just relax,” Marco murmurs, his left hand releasing his cock to slide under Jean’s chin. “I got you.”

Jean’s eyes roll shut and when Marco thrusts into Jean’s mouth he feels the head of his cock slip into Jean’s throat and he _moans_ at the tight heat there. The feeling of his cock sliding into Jean’s throat, his muscles tensing around him...

“T-that’s it, Jean. G-god, baby, that’s _so good,_ ” Marco gasps before pulling back and Jean takes in a deep breath, saliva stretching between his lips and Marco’s cock. “Just like that. Want more?”

“Y-” Jean’s voice croaks on so he clears it before trying again. “Yes, Sir.”

Marco smiles wickedly at the sound. He can’t wait to hear Jean later, begging in a ragged, fucked out voice for his cock.

“Good boy. Want it right down your throat again.”

Jean opens his mouth and Marco fucks into it, his cock buried in Jean’s throat again after only a few shallow thrusts this time.

“T-that’s it, baby,” Marco grits out, his hand in Jean’s hair gently nudging him to sink down further. “Can take it deeper for me, can’t you?” Jean coughs around Marco’s cock again but slowly sinks down a few more inches. “So _good_ for me,” Marco almost slurs, his hips rocking slowly.

He lets out a breath and slowly pulls back. Jean gasps in a breath and closes his mouth, to swallow, but Marco grips his hair tightly. Jean chokes on an inhale, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes making them shine in the low light of the bedroom.

“Ah, ah, what did I say about spit? I worked for it, it’s mine. Don’t you dare swallow it.” Jean promptly spits the pooling saliva onto Marco’s already slick cock.

“Sorry, Sir,” Jean rasps, panting. “More. Please.”

“Want my cock back in you that bad, huh? You greedy little thing,” Marco muses. He grabs the base of his cock again, dragging the head across Jean’s parted lips. “You gonna stop playing around and let me _fuck_ it?”

“Yes _yesyes-_ ” The words are delirious with want.

“You gonna choke on it for me?”

“Please,” Jean slurs. “God, w-wanna _gag_ for you, Sir.”

The dirty, wet sounds as Marco thrusts back into Jean’s waiting mouth and down his throat only add fuel to the fire. This time, he keeps thrusting in and out of Jean’s throat without pulling completely out, feels spit sliding down Jean’s chin and his cock, watches his length disappear between Jean’s lips. A tear slips down one of Jean’s cheeks unbidden from the reaction of his gag reflex and Marco can’t help but groan at the sight of one more way Jean lets Marco wreck him so perfectly.

“Take me so good, baby, _fuck_ -” Marco gasps as he fucks into Jean’s waiting mouth, his hand pulling Jean up and down on his cock. He lets Jean off to gasp in a deep breath before growling, “ _Down_ ,” and pushing Jean back until his nose is buried in the dark curls at the base of Marco’s cock.

Jean coughs around him, eyelids fluttering, and it feels _so_ good, _so_ tight.

Before long he has Jean panting, cheeks wet, spit sliding down his neck and chest, even dripping down onto his stiff cock. With every grip of Jean’s hair, every moment of restricted air and thrust of his hips, he sees Jean sink further and further into that floating, endorphin-induced haze. Marco loves it when Jean gets like this, when it strips away his inhibitions and all his self doubts.

“P-put-” Jean gasps when Marco lets him off. “Push me back down. D- Don’t let me breathe this time. Just make- make me take it.”

Marco lets out a slow breath through his nose.

“ _Fuck_ , Jean,” Marco curses and pushes Jean back down on his cock, fucking into his throat more roughly before pulling his lips flush to his base again. “Hold it.” Marco’s voice is strained but low and forceful. “Hold it there.”

Jean gags around his cock and it’s a filthy, beautiful noise.

“ _Good boy,_ ” Marco sighs, feeling Jean’s lips work around his base as he struggles to keep himself there. He looks down to see Jean’s eyes roll up into his head as he gags again and it’s _so fucking hot_. “Take it for me, _take it_ \- _fuck,_ baby-”

He is _moaning_ the second Marco’s cock is free of his throat.

“Sir- Sir... _God._ ” The words rasp out of him in needy, desperate little pants. “M-more.” His eyes are hazy and Marco’s never known subspace to look so good on a person.

“So good for me, Jean, _Jesus,_ ” Marco sighs the words, caressing Jean’s cheek and his thumb slides through wetness.

Pausing for only a moment, Marco moves behind Jean again, keeping a hand on him at all times―cheek, hair, shoulder―before he crouches and undoes the tie at Jean’s wrists. He takes the remote and tie and sets them on the floor

Jean rolls his wrists but stays still otherwise, hands still crossed behind his back and Marco can’t help but smile at that.

Still behind him, Marco slides his hands down over Jean’s chest, feels the slickness of spit and the heaving of Jean’s breaths. He feels the beautiful way Jean leans into his touches, into the envelopment of Marco’s arms.

“You good, baby?” Marco asks, lips on Jean’s neck. Jean gasps when he nips sharply.

“Mmm. So good, Sir,” he murmurs, voice still hoarse and Marco huffs a heated exhale into Jean’s shoulder.

“Your cock still hard for me?” Marco’s hands drift downwards, feeling the tensing of Jean’s stomach on his way to sliding a palm across Jean’s dick. It’s still hard enough to be straining a bit against the cock ring. Jean’s breath hitches and he moans quietly as Marco strokes him with a firm grip. “Haven’t touched it at all, have you?”

“No permission to.”

Marco rewards his good answer with a quick twist around Jean’s head and his hips buck into the touch.

“Bed. On your back.” Marco’s voice is soft as he retracts his arms from around Jean. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth some more.”

Jean is trembling as he climbs to his feet. He doesn’t need the balance help, Marco knows, but he still keeps a hand on Jean all the same, softly touching his shoulder blade in assurance of his closeness, his approval, his care.

Marco helps get Jean where he wants him, on his back on the bed with his head hanging off the back end closest to Marco’s legs. Once he’s positioned to Marco’s satisfaction, he removes his belt and pants and shoes. He then decides to shuck his shirt as well and comes to stand, naked, with legs on either side of Jean's face and groans at the sight before him.

“Made quite a little mess of you, huh?” Marco leans over Jean’s body, runs his hands over Jean’s thighs and stomach and balls, jerks his cock a few times until Jean is quivering. “You like when I make messes of you, don’t you?”

“Love it, Sir,” Jean manages.

Marco plants his hands on the mattress on either side of Jean’s hips, cock still jutting and hard.

“Ask for it,” Marco demands.

“Fuck my face, Sir,” Jean’s breathing starts to pick up in anticipation and the rawness of his voice makes Marco swallow. “Please.”

Marco shifts his weight so he can free a hand to smack the inside of Jean’s thigh. Jean lets out a short sound of surprise.

“ _Better_ , Jean,” Marco demands, reaching to pump Jean’s cock in his hand. He watches with amusement just this side of sadistic as he watches Jean fight not to squirm at the feeling. “Convince me you want it.”

“P-please,” Jean begs. “Want it, Sir, _need_ it. Want you to j-jerk your c-cock off with my _throat_ -”

Marco’s eyes roll shut with a groan at the filthy words, at Jean’s desperation. Jean is splayed open for him now, all his hidden desires laid bare and that’s why Marco loves this. That.

Jean is free of any worry or shame or guilt. His world has narrowed to Marco’s demands and Marco’s pleasure. And in this Jean has had the courage to let the buried corners of his soul rise to the surface and see sunlight.

And Marco loves him for it.

“Open for me,” Marco’s growling demand is low and dark and Jean, as always, is _so, so_ good for him.

This angle is perfect. His cock is buried to the hilt in Jean’s throat in one fluid motion and the way Jean’s back arches as he fights his gag reflex is _gorgeous_.

Marco thrusts in and out of Jean’s mouth, the sounds slick and filthy and so _fucking_ hot.

“This is your chance to make it up to me, Jean,” Marco says as Jean coughs around his cock and Marco pulls back to let him drag in a few gulps of air. “You keep your hands to yourself.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t you _dare_ touch your cock. You don’t move your hands up from that spot. If you need me to pull back you tap my arm twice. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy. Now keep your mouth open and let me fuck you.”

As he thrusts back into Jean’s waiting mouth―so slick and hot and _good ―_Marco lets his head hang so he can watch the sinful slide of his cock between Jean’s lips, watch the way his throat bulges around the intrusion.

Marco lets out a harsh breath that he doubts Jean can hear over the filthy wet sounds of his mouth and throat. He watches the muscles of Jean’s stomach tense, watch his cock twitch with heated fascination.

“God, you _love_ this don’t you?” Marco breathes, voice low and half-moaned as a bead of precome slides down the side of Jean’s cock. Beside his thighs, Jean’s hands are white-knuckle clenched in the sheets but whether it’s to anchor himself against the way Marco’s increasingly sharp thrusts are rocking his body or to keep himself from touching the angry red jut of his cock is anyone’s guess. “My dirty boy just loves _taking it_ for me. Feel- _ah_ \- so good around my cock.”

Jean’s back arches and Marco hears the guttural sound of Jean choking, thinks to himself he shouldn’t find that kind of a sound as _fucking hot_ as he does but decides he doesn’t much mind since the moment he pulls back Jean’s gasps are colored with moans.

Marco grins, thrusts back into Jean’s mouth mid-moan and groans at the way the boy beneath him goes stiff in surprise before almost shuddering and melting against the bed.

It’s a habit Marco had discovered in Jean whenever he’d done something suddenly during a scene. As if after the initial subconscious shocked response, upon realizing Marco could in fact do whatever he pleased with Jean’s body and was willing to, Jean would go loose and pliant in submission. And, God, the sight of it makes heat race across Marco’s shoulders and down his arms with power and lust.

Cock buried in Jean’s throat, Marco shifts his weight to one arm and brings the other up to run his fingers along the curve of Jean’s throat. He feels Jean’s throat working around him, watches the muscles beneath his fingers respond to his thrusts.

“Hold it there,” Marco whispers low with Jean’s lips tight around his base before he rocks shallowly forward, keeping his cock buried to the hilt as he moves. “Look so good stuffed full of me. _That’s_ it. _Fuck._ ”

Marco wraps his fingers around Jean’s neck without squeezing and Jean’s chest seems to heave, his cock twitching hard between his legs, his fingers nearly spasming where they grip the sheets.

Marco has to try incredibly hard not to come right then and there.

“Think you’ve proved you can follow my rules now, Jean?”

He watches the strings of spit stretch and break between his cock and Jean’s mouth when he pulls back out and Jean gasps in deep, rasping breaths.

“Sir- _F_ _uck_ , oh God, Sir…”

He looks so _wrecked_ beneath Marco ―heaving for breath, messy with sweat and spit, red with about five different kinds of flushes―and something in Marco roars with a possessive fire deep in his gut.

His fingers slide along Jean’s sweat-slicked forehead, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he gazes down at him.

“So perfect,” Marco breathes one part adoration, one part lust, before he reaches down to Jean’s shoulders, voice dropping to a low growl. “Hands and knees. _Now_. I want to fuck you.”

Marco helps the sub-space woozy Jean to maneuver himself, not wanting to take the chance with the plug still inside him. He can’t help but trail his fingers over Jean’s nipples as he goes, eliciting a soft sound.

Marco lays his hand on Jean’s back, presses his head and chest into the bedsheets with his ass up in the air. Gripping his cock lightly with one hand Marco surveys Jean with heated eyes.

“Mmm fuck me, Sir,” Jean breathes and the raspy, desperate, far-away quality of his voice has Marco swallowing and his hand tightening around his cock.

“Shush,” Marco replies, smacking the back of Jean’s thigh with his free hand. Jean jerks and groans.

“S- _haaa_ , s-sorry, Sir. I’m just so _hard_ , wanna- wanna come so bad,” Jean moans, words almost delirious and his hips work jerk slightly in the air in search of some kind of friction to his neglected cock.

Marco clicks his tongue in mock disappointment.

“Just when I thought you were going to behave for me.” Marco can’t help the smirk that crosses his lips, can’t help digging his nails into the reddened flesh of the back of Jean’s thighs, can’t help leaning over Jean’s back and gripping his hair, can’t help yanking Jean’s head back so he can whisper beside his ear. “You come if and when I say so, understood?”

Jean’s breath hitches and he arches his back even further, hands out in front of his head with wrists crossed over each other and _Jesus_ what did Marco do to deserve this boy.

“Yes Sir, of course, Sir,” Jean nearly slurs the words together and he sounds so desperately obedient Marco almost wants to put his shoes back on just to make Jean get down and lick them, almost wants to slip his tie around Jean’s neck and yank just to see his neck strain and his eyes flutter.

But there will be time for all the things he wants to do to Jean and more. Right now Jean is plugged, face down on the bed swimming in sub-space, and Marco wants to fuck him until he can’t see straight.

Grabbing the lube from the bedside table, Marco kneels on the bed behind Jean, sliding his hands up the back of Jean’s thighs, to the curve of his ass to the flared base of the red plug.

“Sir?”

Marco’s hands still.

“Color, Jean.”

“Gr-” Jean pauses. Swallows. “Yellow.”

Marco pulls his fingers away from Jean’s skin.

“What’s wrong, Jean?” His voice remains low, calm, authoritative but now is colored with concern rather than dominance.

Marco knows both he and Jean have a hard time coming out of headspaces after scenes and even when safewords are called, so their roles remain in place. He’s still here to care for and look after Jean in these moments in-between scene and normality.

“I need my wrists tied.” Jean’s voice is vulnerable, small and breathy and it makes Marco want to curl himself protectively around Jean’s form.

 _Need_ , he said. And not as if to remind Marco of some pre-approved checklist as one might think if they didn’t know Jean. Jean needs it. Needs to feel held down, tied up. Tied _together_ sometimes, Marco thinks. And he always finds it breathtaking, the tangible security that bondage and orders give Jean in moments like these.

He smiles.

“Of course, love,” Marco replies, running a hand soothingly along Jean’s thigh before standing up off the bed. “Anything else?”

“Not- Not unless we have a spreader bar.”

“Unfortunately not,” Marco laughs as grabs the discarded tie and its previous place across the room and brings it over, standing along the bedside nearest Jean’s head, making sure the safety scissors remained nearby. “Hands, please.”

Jean bends his elbows to raise his crossed hands a few inches, head still down with cheek pressed against the covers. His eyes are mostly closed, hazily watching Marco as he leans over and secures Jean’s wrists together.

Jean sighs in contentment as Marco tugs the knot closed and visibly relaxes. Marco runs a hand along the beautifully arched curve of Jean’s back.

“Better now?”

“Mmm. Much.”

Marco leans down and kisses Jean softly and slowly, fingers gently carding through Jean’s hair.

“Color?” he asks as he straightens up.

Jean lets out a breath.

“Green, Sir.”

“Good boy,” Marco sighs. He moves around back onto the bed behind Jean and watches him let out a jerky exhale, subtly tugging against the tie around his wrists to remind himself it’s there. Marco’s hands are once again on Jean’s legs, Jean’s ass, then gripping the base of the plug with one hand and twisting gently.

Jean groans, hips bucking at the feeling. The fingers of Marco’s other hand dig into Jean’s hip.

“ _Still,_ ” Marco growls and Jean lets out a heated breath but the movements of his hips cease. Marco keeps twisting, pours lube onto the toy pulled halfway out and then slides it back it, warming Jean’s muscles up to movement as well as intrusion. “I know it’s hard for a slutty thing like you.” Jean moans.

“I’ll be good, Sir.” Jean’s voice is muffled where he’s pressed down into the mattress. “Promise. Wanna be good for you.”

Marco grins before smacking Jean’s ass. The sound rings and Jean jerks at the sudden jolt.

“Mmm, I think you just wanna get your ass fucked.” Marco is slowly thrusting the plug in and out, twisting to ease Jean’s muscles into the movement.

“No, please- Sir, I just-” Jean’s breath hitches as Marco pushes the plug back in more quickly.

“You just what?” Marco knows he’s being a tad cruel but he loves to hear Jean talk when he’s like this, stripped of any filter or self-consciousness.

“I- I want you to fuck me, Sir. So- _haa_ \- _so_ , bad.” Marco watches, heat flaring in his gut, as a strand of precome drips from Jean’s cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. Jean’s breath comes faster, slurring and tripping over his words. “But- But i-if you just wanted me to suck you off, or- or if you just w-wanted to come on your shoes a-and have me get down a-and clean them, I’d do it. I-I’d do it, Sir, I just-!”

Marco leans forward over Jean’s body, stilling the plug for a moment to run his fingers across Jean lips. They open immediately and Marco slips two fingers into Jean’s warm, welcoming mouth.

“Shhh, I know you would, Jean.”

“Sir…” Jean breathes the words around Marco’s fingers. Marco grinds his erection against Jean, against the plug and Jean gasps.

“Feel how hard you get me?” He lowers his mouth beside Jean’s ear, licking a slow stripe up the shell. Jean’s lips are parted, mouth open around Marco’s fingers as he slowly thrusts them in and out. He groans through words as he talks, grinding against Jean slowly. “God, I love making messes of you. Love how you take my hands and my toys and my cock. _Nnn_ , and I love _wrecking_ you like this. Love how hard it makes you. Dripping when I’ve barely touched you all night, you dirty _beautiful_ thing.”

Jean is _keening_ around Marco’s fingers by the time Marco finishes the last words around Jean’s earlobe and Marco is so hard it’s starting to hurt.

Marco pulls away and straightens back up onto his knees, albeit taking a moment to savor the image of a flushed, fucked-out Jean with saliva strands stretching between his lips and Marco’s fingers as Marco pulls back.

“Still, remember?” Marco breathes, fingers tightening against Jean’s hip bone as the other returns to Jean’s plug. Slowly twisting, Marco eases the toy from Jean who’s only response is a high, breathy sound and the tensing of muscles Marco can feel as Jean resists the urge to buck into or away from the sensation. Marco lets out a heated breath at Jean’s obedience, setting the toy to the side and skimming hands lightly over Jean’s back and thighs. “ _Oh,_  good boy.”

Jean positively whines as Marco grips himself, running his head teasingly across Jean’s entrance. He gazes down along Jean’s body to watch his wrists twist deliciously against the bondage there.

“Sir- Sir, _please_ -” Jean croaks, voice hoarse and desperate. Marco grins, almost feral.

Marco leans to snag the condom laid out on bedside table and tears it open, rolling it onto his cock with a heated exhale and coating himself with lube. And can’t help but also coat two fingers in lube and slide them into Jean’s waiting body.

Jean whines, taking Marco’s fingers with ease and Marco can feel how Jean’s muscles clench around them.

“My cock’s gonna have you _shaking_ , fuck...”

Marco pushes into Jean slowly, makes Jean feel every inch as he slides into him thick and hot and hard. And Jean - good, _obedient_ Jean - _trembles_ against the urge to rock back against Marco that is visible in the straining of his thighs. Jean’s breathing has gone gasping and patchy where he’s pressed down into the mattress.

“Breathe, Jean.”

“Does-  _haa_ \- does it feel g-good, Sir?” Jean’s words are moaned and slurred; delirious sounding and Marco’s hips twitch forward a little faster than he would have liked.

“You feel _so_ good,” Marco moans, hands sliding soothingly along the still-reddened flesh of Jean’s ass and thighs, up and down the length of his back, dancing across his ribs. “So hot and tight and _perfect_ for me, Jean-  _nnnn._ ”

Marco moans low as he bottoms out, his hips pressing snug against the heated flesh of the backs of Jean’s thighs.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” Marco can’t help the smirking edge to his voice; feels on fire at the sight of Jean face down with legs spread before him, _for_ him.

Jean moans, a shudder wracking him from head to toe.

“ _Use_ me, Sir.”

Marco has always considered himself to have a fairly decent amount of self-control but the way Jean breathes― _moans ―_the words, Marco can hardly do anything but comply.

The sudden snap of his hips back and then forward once again has Jean crying out in surprise against the bedsheets with his back arching beautifully in attempt to give Marco as much access as he desires. The sound of his hips colliding with Jean’s skin is somehow distant to Marco, as is the muted squeaking of the bed.

There is a narrowing that comes sometimes in moments like these, a hyper-focus of sorts on his submissive. The entire world drifts away and all that remains are his base desires, his burning needs, the feeling of power that races through him like fire.

He lifts on hand from its grip on Jean’s bony hip to rake his nails down Jean’s back, angry red lines following beautifully in their wake. Jean arches and moans, twists his hips.

“Look so good, squirming on my cock,” Marco growls. “Feel better now that I gave you what you wanted? All filled up with cock like you need?”

“Y-Yes-” Jean gasps.

“ _Nnn_ -” Marco groans, snapping his hips roughly. “Begged for it so pretty, too. Just like a good little slut should.”

Jean is like the circle of clarity and light in tunnel vision and Marco takes in every twitch of muscle, every stuttering breath, every rock of hips. He bends forward enough to grab a fistful of Jean’s hair and yank him backwards, arching Jean’s neck until he’s leaning on his bound hands pressed into the mattress.

“ _Say it,_ ” Marco demands, low and rough and burning.

“I- I-I’m a good little slut, Sir.” Marco sees the way Jean’s eyelashes flutter, knows that Jean’s eyes must be rolling back in his head by now.

“ _Again_.”

“ _S-Shit_ -! I’m a g-good little _slut_ , Sir!”

Pounding his hips into Jean―so _tight_ and _good_ ―Marco reaches his other arm around to Jean’s front, hauling him up, back now flush with his own chest. Jean’s head falls backwards against his shoulder and Marco can see his beautifully parted lips that gasp almost every breath, the flutter of his eyelashes…

Slowly, teasingly in contrast to his rough thrusts, Marco slides his right hand up to Jean’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze, only places his hand there around Jean’s neck, and feels Jean tighten around his cock in arousal.

“You _like_ that, don’t you?” Marco purrs into Jean’s ear. _Fuck_ , he feels on _fire_. Jean can only moan brokenly in response. “Maybe sometime I’ll choke you, yeah? Leave pretty purple bruises all over your neck.”

Jean’s hips jerk and his breathing is a stuttering, moaning, desperate mess. Beneath Jean’s spread legs, the sheets are damp with precome, Jean’s cock an angry red from straining against the cock ring. His still bound wrists hang in front of him and Marco can tell his orders are the only thing keeping Jean from fisting his cock.

Marco can feel the low build in his gut at the sight, at the sound, at the _feeling_ of Jean, groans low and possessive into Jean’s ear.

“God, I just love _wrecking_ you. Making you fall apart for me. Love how hard it makes you.” He catches Jean’s earlobe between his teeth and sucks, running his nail over Jean’s nipple. “Bet you wanna come, huh?”

“Ye-” Jean has to stop, close his mouth and swallow before trying again. “Yes, p-please, Sir. I wanna come, _please_.”

“I don’t know,” Marco muses, dropping his hand from Jean’s chest to his straining, soaked cock, still rocking up into Jean with hard snaps of his hips. “Like seeing your pretty cock all flushed and dripping.” Jean shudders at the filthy words.

Marco groans. He can feel the rhythm of his hips start to lose their consistency, has to hold onto his thoughts and words as to not let them slip away into the fog of pleasure.

“Sir-  _Sir-!_ ” Jean gasps, brainless and breathless and nearly _writhing_ on Marco’s cock. Marco moans at the feeling, knows he can’t keep this up for much longer.

“Could you come untouched for me? Just from getting fucked?”

“A-Anything, Sir- _f-fuck_. W-wanna come on your c-cock.”

“Ohh, good boy,” Marco breathes all adoration and obsession and lust. His hips begin to lose rhythm completely and the coiling low in his gut grows tighter and tighter and he _needs_ to feel Jean come around him before he loses any grip on his control.

Marco’s hand comes down, grips the base of Jean’s cock and Jean punches out a breathy sound at the feeling.

“Come for me,” Marco hisses into Jean’s ear as he flicks off the cock ring and pumps Jean with a tight, quick grip.

It only takes a few strokes for Jean’s body to go rigid, his hands trembling out in front of him, his mouth dropping open. He’s silent for a moment where his breath seems to elude him before he cries out high and stuttered and dotted with “S- _Sir_ ”s and “ _F-fuckfuck-_ ” and garbled words Marco can’t untangle in the midst of the feeling of Jean spasming around him. He’s so _unimaginably_ tight around Marco now and Marco fucks into him in earnest, still working Jean through his orgasm, Jean's come slick and hot over his hand.

“So good for me, Jean, so _good_ for me, fuck, _fuck_ , I-” Marco’s breath comes ragged and fast as he feels his own orgasm rushing quickly towards him.

Marco’s hands come once again to grip around Jean’s hips, digging his fingers into Jean’s skin - he’ll probably have bruises tomorrow, Christ - and pounding into Jean’s pliant body.

And he can hear Jean murmuring, slurring breathy words. And he’s responding, he thinks. Heated praises and filthy words and comes with a low, growling moan biting _hard_ into Jean’s shoulder and _fuck_ if the sound of Jean keening at the pain and ownership Marco brings to bear on him in this moment doesn’t make him want to never, ever let go.

 

 

 

 

“Sweetheart, I’m just going to get you a glass of water. You need to drink something.”

Jean rubs his eyes, scowling a little like a distressed toddler and shakes his head. His hand darts out to grasp at the fabric of the sweatpants around Marco’s hips.

Marco sighs, running a hand gently through Jean’s hair. Jean just sighs contentedly and leans into the touch.

“Need you,” Jean mutters, eyes half closed. With as hard as Jean sub-spaces, Marco knows his come down takes some time. And the taking care of Jean helps Marco too, to transition out of that commanding, dominating space and back to his normal self, gives him a middle stepping stone to touch off.

He slides his hand down to stroke Jean’s cheek softly, warmly.

“Of course, love.” Marco offers his hand to Jean and Jean raises his own to grasp it with visible relief. “Can you walk? You’re not hurting are you?”

Jean shakes his head, eyes still half-lidded.

“‘m good. Probably be sore in a bit but ’m still floaty right now.”

Marco smiles.

“Come with me, then.”

Jean nods, stands up and trails after Marco with their hands grasped and his other clasping Marco’s shoulder, then the curve of his hip, moving as they walk.

The continued contact comforts Jean, Marco knows, helps with the sub-drop that can leave someone with shivers and depression and feelings of abandonment if not given proper aftercare. So he makes an effort to keep part of himself available for Jean to touch, to tilt his cheek against, to lean himself into as he grabs a clean glass and fills it with water.

“Drink,” he says, pushing the glass into one of Jean’s hands. Jean obeys without question, his other hand still clasped in Marco’s. “Bedroom or couch.”

“Mmmm, bedroom,” Jean replies. “I wanna lay down.”

Marco grabs a granola bar from the counter before leading Jean back into the bedroom. He sets Jean's water on the bedside table after making him take another long drink, deciding the toys and cloth he’d used to clean them off can wait until Jean is feeling better to be thoroughly cleaned in the bathroom.

Climbing into bed beside Jean, he pulls the blanket over them knowing Jean will start to get colder as the endorphins wear off.

“Eat your granola bar,” Marco says as he opens his arm to let Jean lean into his chest, “or no cuddling.”

“That’s not true. Cuddling’s part of your aftercare.” Jean huffs out a tired laugh.

“Part of yours too, mister,” Marco replies, shaking his head with a smile as Jean unwraps the granola bar and begins munching. Marco can feel his jaw working where Jean’s head is leaned against his chest and the feeling comforts him. Jean is warm and taken care of and safe and snugly, curled into the circle of his arms. Marco lets out a deep sigh of contentment, carding his hands through Jean’s hair. “You feeling all right?”

“Feel _amazing,_ ” Jean says around a mouthful of granola. “So, so good. Everything I wanted.”

Marco feels a knot loosen somewhere in his chest.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” he murmurs. Jean tilts his head, swallowing his bite and looking up at Marco.

“You made me feel safe. Always checked limits and never went past ‘em.” Jean snuggles back into Marco’s chest. “I’m really lucky to have you.”

Marco huffs a laugh.

“That’s my line.”

Marco can feel Jean’s answering quiet laugh as it moves across the light dusting of dark hairs on his chest.

“I… is it all right if I sleep for a bit?” Jean asks. “I’m really tired. I know you wanna do more debriefing stuff but-” He cuts himself off with a yawn.

“Go right ahead. Your body probably needs it,” Marco replies. “I can give you a back rub and put lotion on you later. And talk.”

Jean looks back up at Marco for a second with an expression of almost disbelieving adoration.

“And you’ll be here when I wake up?”

Marco can’t help but smile.

“Of course I will.”

Jean lets out a contented sigh in reply, leaning back into Marco.

“Thank you, Sir,” he mumbles. Marco leans down and softly kisses the top of his head.

"Anything for you, dearest."

**Author's Note:**

> [fanfic/podfic blog](http://zoe-bug.tumblr.com/) | [personal](http://xiexiecaptain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/xiexiecaptain)


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